I Wrote a Letter
by Ukaisha
Summary: One writes a letter to the mother he craves in his life. The other writes a letter to the father he hates to death. A letter can say so much in so few precious words. SuperDrabble, 1,000 words each.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The author takes no stake or claim on any characters mentioned.

A/N: A Super Drabble, 1000 words. Made me feel good to write this.

I Wrote a Letter

I wrote my Mom a letter today. My real Mom, I mean, the one I've never met. I don't remember her really well, but I have a picture of her I look at all the time. I try to think back and remember being a baby and being held in her arms, but she apparently died when I was one year old, and I can't go back that far. I didn't even have an example of her voice. I wish I could remember how she said my name.

I wrote my Mom a letter every day. It's a habit I grew into one day when I was a little kid, maybe seven or something. There was a day in school where they had us write a letter to our parents as though we wouldn't see them again for a long time; instead, I wrote to the mother I don't remember seeing at all. Ever since then, I've been writing letters to her, every day, just telling her what's going on in my life and telling her what she's missing as I grow up. I tell her things I've never told anyone else and I never will; I tell her things I later forget and then read years later, remembering. I tell her things that make me laugh and cry, and I tell her things that make me wish I were dead. I've filled up lots of composition books with letters to my Mom. She's an infinite listening ear, always there for me.

I wrote my Mom a letter at night. I usually pull out the current composition book right before I go to bed, when my day is ending and I can really explain it to her. I empty all my frustrations into the letter so I can go to bed at ease. Lately I've been writing angrier letters, and I've been blaming my Mom a lot. I'm angry all the time, I just can't help it. I wish she would send me a letter back one day; she owes me one, after the thousands of letters I've sent to her. She needs to explain things to me and help me with stupid problems kids have; mothers are supposed to be the guidance for their kids, aren't they? She's supposed to guide me to adulthood, not let me flounder along by myself. She was supposed to be there for me all this time and she hasn't been, and why am I the one that suffers from that?

I wrote my Mom a letter tonight. I had to tell her I was sorry. I don't mean to write mean things to her in my letters, and I lose sleep over it. I eventually wake up and apologize for what I wrote before. I used to think my mother was an angel in heaven or something and maybe every night when I slept she'd come down to read my letters. I never wanted her to read the mean letter before I wrote the apology. I wanted her to know I loved her so that she'd keep coming, like maybe one day I'd accidentally wake up and see her in my room. I never did see her.

I wrote my Mom a letter for every day I thought would be my last. I used to contemplate suicide a lot. I never really thought I was depressed, I just didn't ever think life was worth living. I was already sick of life and I knew that in a few years, I'd be moving on into the real world. I was already floating along as it was; I didn't think I could take it in the real world, where floating was unacceptable. I was sure I'd be unhappy for the rest of my life, and so I've always wanted to just end it. I wrote my Mom a lot of letters that were nothing but suicide notes. I used to think no one would care.

I wrote my Mom a letter the day I finally tried killing myself. Sleeping pills. Nice and quiet death, simply float away to dreamland and never worry about anything ever again; that sounded ideal. Imagine my confusion when I woke up, learning that I'd been asleep for about 24 hours solid, but was otherwise no worse off. To this day, I still don't really know how that happened; I was positive I'd taken enough to kill me. Instead I'd just slept like a log and felt like shit for more than a week afterwards; I said I had the flu. It was a miracle. I used to think my mother intervened somehow.

I wrote my Mom a letter telling her "thank you." I never truly wanted to die, not really. It's hard sometimes, but I have better things to do with the rest of my time on earth than sit around rotting in a grave, especially now that I finally have someone to send these letters to.

I wrote my Mom a letter today. This is what I wrote:

_Mom-_

_Having you back in my life is I think the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm eternally grateful for having met Kouichi and learning I had another family. I'm eternally grateful for meeting you for the first time, Mom. I'm finally happy to have a real person I can call Mom.  
You don't know this, but I've written a letter to you every single day of my life for as long as I can remember. You've been in my life more than you know, but now I want you to see what my life's been like while you've been gone. I'm sending you those letters, unedited. I don't really remember what I've written in most of them, but I think you'll understand. Know that though you've been out of my life for so long, you've never been far from my thoughts, and at the risk of sounding corny, never out of my heart. _

_With love-  
__Your son,  
__Kouji. _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: "I Wrote a Letter- Kouji POV" is one of my favorite stories I've ever written. I don't know why. In class today I started wondering what it would be like if Kouichi wrote a letter. This is the result.  
This little sequel is exactly 1000 words long.  
I'm not intending to write any more sequels.

* * *

I Wrote a Letter

I wrote my father a letter today. The father who left me when I was a baby, the father I've never seen. I don't know what he looks like, except in decade old pictures. I don't even know where he lives, so I can't send these letters. I often wondered if he was still out there, and if he knew I was still out there. If he thought about how he ignored his own son's existence, and if that ever bothered him.

I wrote my father a letter for tomorrow. When I was a little kid, I used to think that maybe if I wrote my father letters and put them in the mail, he would magically get them somehow. I later found out that my mother took them out shortly afterwards. All I would write were things I wished he would do; I told him that if he came back home to me and my mom, and took care of us, and played sports with me and did all the things a father was supposed to do, we would forgive him for leaving us for all that time. The longer he was gone the longer my wishlists got, but still he never came. Eventually I stopped trying to send him letters, but I wrote them still, to satisfy my own longing.

I wrote my father a letter when I needed him. I was an independent kid from a young age; I had to be, because of how often my mother worked. Oftentimes I came home to an empty house, and had to do everything by myself, and sometimes extra, to lighten her load when she came home. Besides, most problems I had my mother could solve. I relied on my mother for a lot, but some things I desperately craved my father for; I wanted his wisdom and advice and know-how. My first fight at school. When I started puberty. My first kid crush. Some things, my mother couldn't teach me. No one taught me how to be a man as I grew up into one. I could've used a father then, huh "Dad?"

I wrote my father a letter whenever my mother cried. And my mother cried a lot. I blamed him for a lot of things in my life, and I wanted him to know when things went wrong. I wanted him to know how hard my mother worked to support me and how poor we were. What the shithole we could afford looked like. What I missed out on every day because there was just no money for it. And it was all because of him; my mother never had to say it, because I already knew. It was all his fault to begin with; he should've been the one to suffer, not us. He would've deserved it.

I wrote my father a letter to tell him I hated him. Sometimes it was the only way I could justify the way things were, the only way I could accept it. No child should have to go through this. I didn't deserve it, and neither did my mother. I had to let him know it was his fault. Sometimes it was the only way I could sleep at night. I hated him for leaving us like he did and putting my mother into the situation she was in now. For making me the bastard child with no father, with a struggling mother and a screwed up childhood. I told him he should drop dead.

I wrote my father a letter reluctantly apologizing for my cruel words. Even if I knew he would never read all these letters I wrote, if somehow he ever did, I didn't want him to think bad of me or be embarrassed of me. I wasn't a perfect person, but I wasn't a bad person either. If it came to it, I wanted him to know that I turned out alright, WITHOUT his help.

I wrote my father a letter the day my mother wound up in the hospital. She's always had back problems, but this was serious. She had to have surgery. We couldn't afford it. She had it done anyway. I had to take care of her for weeks. I failed a grade because of it.

I snapped.

His fault. It was all his fault. I hated him. I loathed him. He deserved to suffer as much as my mother and I had. I became angry and vengeful, all because of him. I did horrible things all because of him. I killed because of him.  
And my poor mother lost her job. She can't work with a back like that. Now she can't support herself or her son. I'm not old enough to work. When I can, I probably won't go to college. I probably won't make anything of myself except what I need to do to help my mother. What of it, "Dad?" Is that how you want your son to live?  
Except, when I found out, I knew that your other son would never have to stoop to these levels. And I hated him too. Although now, after a lot of hardship, I don't blame my brother for what you did to me. I know he's innocent, while you're the one guilty as sin.

I wrote my father a letter today. This is what I wrote:

_To my father:_  
_I hate you. I've wanted to say those words to you for many years now. Kouji wants me to talk to you personally, and he's been bugging me about it ever since we met again for the first time, but I think a letter will do just fine for this purpose._  
_I don't want to talk to you and I don't want you to talk to me. You had your chance while I was growing up, and you abandoned us. You failed me as a father. _  
_Thanks, "Dad."_  
_There's nothing else I want to say to you._  
_Your son,_  
_Kouichi_


End file.
